The pill didn’t make you larger The pill didn’t make you small The heart lay battered The heart lay bruised Images of innocence lost The pain remains
Turmoil, and pain Resolute not Heart lies broken Colors to canvas Therapy of brush strokes Yet the pain remains
Down the rabbit hole The walls go up Can’t let them in Only to be hurt again Crumpled on the floor Tears run freely Still, the pain remains
The images vibrant The vision clear The tormented soul Colors to canvas The world to see Embracing the pain that remains
I wrote this after reading an article from 2018, about a young artist, and her winning painting in watercolor that she titled "Frustration", but retitled later as "Brokin". In the article, it goes on to say "She captured her raw emotions from a bad breakup in her watercolour piece Frustration. She painted a fluffy creature peeling out of its skin to reveal despair and sadness. The canvas, she said, “is my friend. It’s therapy and it’s a good way for me to articulate my thoughts.” This poem, is dedicated to her work, and what I see in her art.